Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The morning of our departure was cold, and the seas were choppy. There was fog in the
air, and I could not use the sextant but got a running fix on the Aruba lighthouse where we
ran just north of it. The sea birds were constantly chasing the lure as it skipped across the
surface of the water when all of a sudden one of them got hooked!
I cried to Gavin who was down below, “Hey! Come up and help me; I think we've caught
a bird!”
“Where?” he said a few moments later. “Oh shame! God, I hope it's OK! We are going to
have to stop the boat I think.”
“No, I don't think so; look, he appears to be skiing along on his backside.” It did look quite
funny though, the frigate surfing along or rather skidding along behind us. I had the line
in my hand and was able to tow the stricken frigate through the water without any more
discomfort than if we had stopped.
He came out hissing, snapping, and very irate. We were delighted to see how big and wild
and beautiful he was. In my animal voice I said, “You silly birdelidge, just look and see
what you have done! I warned you.”
To Gavin I said, “Won't you grab a towel? He is going to peck the hell out of us.”
I wrapped a towel over his head and held him tight. Gavin untangled the hook from his leg.
He struggled like crazy, understandably, but soon he was free, and I handed him cautiously
to Gavin to hold while I went to grab the camera. I took a wonderful shot of him holding
the wild bird in his hands. Some years later I drew a portrait of him from this very picture
and tried to capture his expression of honest sympathy on his face.
We had been averaging about one hundred and twenty knots a day. The log describes it
best, “Rolly, but going places.” Later in the day we hauled in the Genoa and replaced it
with a working jib. Somehow the windward sheet came undone, and the jib flogged about
like a demented thing. It took both of us to grab a hold and calm it down enough to retie
the bowline. There was a moment of unpleasantness when I yelled at Gavin for not tying a
proper bowline in the first place.
He had tied the strangest looking bowline I had ever seen. A bowline is instantly recogniz-
able; it has a certain structure and form to it, yet somehow Gavin had learned to tie one in a
very strange way (typical of him to be so original). Upon studying his bowline, I realized it
actually was correct in an unconventional way. Somehow though, it didn't work on the jib
this time. I didn't mean to yell at him and felt bad for having done so. I believe he felt a bit
compromised with me as skipper and issuing him commands all the time.
